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That’s what he said. That’s what I heard, and yet I still can’t believe it.
I can’t believe a lot of things since last night.
When I woke up this morning, I thought maybe, just maybe, it was all a dream and I was still stuck in it, but then I smelled him. Those notes of spice and woods lingered on my sheets and on me long after he left my bedroom.
So it couldn’t have been a dream, because Nate never goes into my room.Never.
Oh, and my panties were missing. Yup. I slept all night without underwear and kept rubbing my thighs together in a desperate attempt to recreate the friction but failed miserably.
So I left early this morning because I didn’t know what would happen if I saw him hovering over me at breakfast. That’s what he does sometimes since he moved in. He hovers, leaning against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles and drinking from his coffee until he makes sure I’ve eaten something. Because apparently, drinking my milkshake doesn’t count as breakfast.
And I didn’t want to be babied by him. I also didn’t want to be faced with his strict features and punishing eyes or the fact that he might pretend nothing happened.
It would have killed me slowly, and I wasn’t ready for theD-word yet. But here I am. Once again under his scrutiny, and he isn’t pretending that nothing happened.
Hell, he even called me his wife. In his office. During working hours. And why is that so hot? Because I feel myself on the verge of hyperventilating even as I step between his thighs. His strong, powerful thighs that can squeeze and bend me with ease.
“And now what?” I breathe out.
That’s how my voice becomes when he’s so close that I can soak in his warmth, so close that I can see the line of his jaw and trace the contours of his face, with my gaze, of course, because I don’t think I have the courage to touch him. Or if I’m allowed to. So I grip the desk behind me and lean against my hands so that I won’t have the chance to act on that compulsion.
“Not a word, Gwyneth.”
“Why?”
“You’re a bad girl, right?”
“I am. So,sobad.”
“Bad girls don’t get to talk, so when I tell you to shut up, you do.”
“Okay.”
“You’re still talking.”
I purse my lips, leaning further into my hands until my knuckles dig into the hollow of my back. And it’s tingling, my back or my spine, I’m not sure. The explosion of sensations is more than I can take or fathom.
“Now get on the desk.” The order in his voice is coupled with the gradual darkening of his irises.
My limbs shake as I use my hands to hop onto the desk until my feet are dangling and I can glance down and get a direct view of his erection.
Holy. Hell.
I hadn’t noticed it earlier—I didn’t get the chance when I was looking at his face—but now, there’s no mistaking the bulge in his dark pants. And I can’t take my eyes off of it. I can’t focus on anythingbutit, not even on my shaking insides.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Yeah…” I say absentmindedly.
“Why do you like it?”
“Because you want me.” The words leave me in a whoosh and my fractured breaths follow soon after when I finally meet his gaze.
A shadow crosses his face and a muscle tics in his jaw. The hardness in his expression robs me of air and leaves me heaving.
“I never thought you’d want me,” I confess in a low voice, urging whatever upset him to go away. But it gets worse. The veins in his neck tighten and bulge and his chest muscles expand so wide that I think it’ll explode out of his shirt and jacket.
“Who said I want you? Maybe I only want to play with you.”
